Virginia tagged posts

The Hubs and I are headed out to Shenandoah this weekend to camp and *cross your fingers* dapple in a little fly fishing.  We’ve had heavy rains the past few weeks in and around DC, which has spoiled plans to get out several weekends.  With heavy rain, the water gets too high and muddy to fish but we’re hoping with this dry week that the fishing has been improved and we’ll finally get our feet in some cool water. It’s been too long since our Montana trip and I’m itching to land a fish!  Practice makes perfect right?! And if anything is right, it’s that we need more practice. Here’s a guide to North America’s fish to prepare us for what we *will* be pulling out of the water…

Wish you had this guide to help I.D. your fish?  You’re in luck, it’s a crafty poster!  Check it out here. 

By Wendy Martin

Mom and King Salmon

One of my earliest memories is sitting at the front of my parent’s Zodiac boat in a tiny lawn chair, zipping along the Gulf of Alaska to find that perfect fishing hole. I was about 6 years old and I loved every minute of it. With the salty air spraying me in the face and the smell of old fish scales at the bottom of the boat, I would scan the shore for bear and moose.  I think of this memory often and smile to myself.

When I was older, my parents admitted to me that I was actually tied to the lawn chair, and that the lawn chair was secured to the boat, and that I was only up there to weigh the bow of the boat down. Still, I had fun.

My mother is third generation Alaskan, and she taught me all I needed to know about fishing...

By Stephanie Spika

Growing up in Montana, I’ve been on my fair share of hunting excursions.  After moving across the country, however, years went by without donning the blaze orange I so missed. 

One Friday afternoon I found myself at a work happy hour boasting of my hunting skills.  There may have been some embellishment, but still, I wasn’t a complete novice to the outdoors.  After a few glasses of liquid courage, I challenged my male co-workers to step up to the plate and take me hunting.  Sweet Jeff Johnston volunteered, without knowing what he was getting himself into.

Stephanie and her buck

He later confessed that when he told me to show up at his house – an hour away – at 5 am the following morning, he put it at less than a 10-percent chance I’d show up...